Has anyone seen Lebanon's sovereignty?

Nope, it's definitely not here! (Photo: Mohammed Zaatari, AP) 

In the almost two years I've lived in Lebanon, I have witnessed quite a few ups and downs in terms of politics and national security. But these past several weeks have witnessed a series of events which show that, for all the leaders' grand speeches, the nation's sovereignty and political legitimacy are being hacked at with a chainsaw.

Lebanon's sovereignty has long been the source of wry jokes. Between the French Mandate (1920-1943), the civil war (1975-1990), the Israeli occupation (1982-2000), and decades of steadfast Syrian military presence in the country (1976-2005), the country has barely had a break from conflict and external interventions. Similarly, and despite its high visibility in the streets of Beirut, the army is a weak institution which few Lebanese seriously trust to take care of their security.

But no matter how fragile these foundations are, the flagrant disregard for the basic elements of Lebanon's statehood are spelling serious trouble.

That one time I went to the Hezbollah Museum

One of the places I most desperately wanted to go to when I arrived in Lebanon was the Museum of the Resistance in Mleeta in the South. The museum was created in 2010 by Hezbollah to commemorate the ten-year anniversary of the retreat of Israel from South Lebanon. A museum on a given political organization created and maintained by said organization is the kind of surrealist self-serving enterprise I just had to see for myself. In mid-January, one of my classes got to visit the museum, an occasion that was exciting for the reasons mentioned above, and also because I thought class trips were only for middle-schoolers.

The museum is situated on top of a hill which used to be the location of a Hezbollah encampment during the fighting against the Israeli Occupation Forces. At approximately 1.5 km in altitude, my attitude of denial when it comes to wearing proper winter clothing proved particularly painful on this January morning. The hill was covered in thick fog that we were told used to be prime weather to attack Israelis without being spotted.

View from Mleeta

Al-Janub, Part II

From my last post, my trip to the South might sound like it was a sad meditation on life in a war zone—and undoubtedly it was partially that—but it was also an eye-opener on how unexpectedly normal (if such a word can be said about anything) my stay was there.

Al-Janub, Part I

Two weeks ago, during the four day week-end for Aid Al-Adha (a major Muslim holiday), two friends, H. and K., and I were invited by a Lebanese acquaintance, Kh., to go on a two-day road trip in the South (Al-Janub), where he is originally from, down to the frontier with Israel*.

If you know a little about contemporary Lebanese history, "The South" is also known as "Hezbollah Land," a portion of Lebanon more or less outside of Lebanese government control and administrated by the Shi'a Party of God (literal translation of "Hezb-Allah"), and the site of the 2006 war with Israel. Depending on who I would talk to, the South was either someplace I absolutely needed to go or had to avoid at all costs. "You'll be kidnapped!" some said. "Hezbollah people are crazy, you can't go there as a foreigner!"

The Hezbollah flag.

In short, there was no way I could turn down an opportunity to see this for myself.